


Bend and Bruise

by trashbambi



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Choking, M/M, Mentions of rough sex, Morning After, One Night Stands, Pre-Canon, Someone Help Will Graham, Strangling, mild descriptions of past violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 05:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16633520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashbambi/pseuds/trashbambi
Summary: When Will woke, it was to an intense sense of disorientation and a pounding headache. It took him a good minute or so before his brain registered the fact that someone was at his back. Warm, bare flesh pressed against him, hot breath ghosting over the nape of his neck, an arm embracing him.





	Bend and Bruise

When Will woke, it was to an intense sense of disorientation and a pounding headache. It took him a good minute or so before his brain registered the fact that someone was at his back. Warm, bare flesh pressed against him, hot breath ghosting over the nape of his neck, an arm embracing him.

He lay as still as possible; frozen in the strangers arms and tried to recall the previous day. There had been a new case with a particularly aggressive killer who committed a high amount of sexually motivated kills. It was the kind of case Will usually didn’t allow himself anywhere near. His empathy made it hard to stay physically unaffected when he sunk into such a sexually motivated psyche.

It looked like that was exactly what had happened. He didn’t recall much after steeping himself in this killers mind. There were vague flashes of the scene, of telling Jack his theories, of driving toward Wolf Trap in the snow.

What had Will done after?

He racked his brains trying to remember, but it was so disjointed he struggled to make sense of what flashes of memory he could grasp. The body behind him shifted and there was a soft, deep inhale, the arm around him tightening marginally. Will’s eyes snapped open and he sucked in a sharp breath as he felt lips against the back of his neck.

The hand against his chest started to slide down over his skin. Will bolted upright, out of the strangers grip and looked down at them wide eyed. There in the bed beside him was a sight that equally made his heart race and stomach drop.

A middle aged man—admittedly the most attractive person Will had seen in a while, even in the state he was in—looked back at him, greying hair mussed from sleep but warm honey eyes sharply focussed.

“Are you ok?” the man asked in a sinfully sibilant accent, warm and rough with sleep. The tone of it had arousal pooling in Will’s groin. He recalled the same voice speaking to him the night before, somewhere in the dark with the tang of whiskey on his own tongue.

If it weren’t for the state of the man’s exposed skin, Will was sure he’d be tempted to sink back into those strong looking arms. Dark bruises adorned the man’s throat, vivid and hand shaped. Anxiety licked at Will’s lips at the sight.

Dry blood flecked discoloured skin around deep bite marks along his collarbones and Will catalogued the residual metallic tang of blood in his mouth. His stomach clenched in horror as it dawned on him that he’d evidently played out a version of the killers practices with this unknown man.

“I choked you…” Will breathed in dismay, his tongue feeling dry and heavy in his mouth. His alarm at the revelation was clearly recognised by the other man. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, displaying further marks and wounds. A panicked noise spilled from Will, and the man reached out, carefully placing a hand against Will’s arm.

“Indeed. It was immensely enjoyable, albeit slightly more intense than I’d expected. I take it you don’t remember our encounter very clearly?” He didn’t wait for an answer that was already obvious. “I apologise, if I’d thought you were so intoxicated I wouldn’t have encouraged this. I assure you it was consensual.” He continued, his thumb stroking soothing circles on Will’s inner elbow.

Will was torn between asking the mans name, and remaining ignorant. He was hoping there’d be no need for it and they’d part ways never to cross paths again. Nausea gripped Will’s stomach like a vice as a little part of him whispered insidiously that he’d enjoyed every moment. That his arousal had been his own, not a shadow of the killer whom he’d inhabited that night.

“Will? Do you need help to the bathroom? You’re looking decidedly unwell. I could provide you with something to help ease your hangover if you like?” So the man knew his name, that information had Will feeling even more unbalanced.

Why was this man so calm? Will had practically mauled him half to death if the wounds to his upper half were any indication.

“Not hungover. I had one drink…” Will forced out, trembling now. “I didn’t… I… I hurt you… I’m sorry, fuck I’m sorry. I don’t… I didn’t...” he said, voice thick with emotion and breathing harsh as he ran a hand over his face. Sweat slicked his forehead and then the back of a hand pressed to it, startling Will with it’s tenderness.

“You don’t have a temperature. Do you often experience loss of memory without alcohol? I’d have suggested your drink may have been spiked if you hadn’t been so lucid.”

“What’s your name?” Will asked, his gaze sharpening though it didn’t meet the strangers.

“My name is Hannibal. Hannibal Lecter. Can you follow my finger with your eyes? I’m worried you may have had a seizure or some other neurological issue that lead to your loss of memory.”

“Are you a doctor or something?”

“I was a surgeon. I’m currently a psychiatrist. Follow my finger, please.” Hannibal said, insistent. Will did as he was bid, following Hannibal’s finger with his eyes without issue, glad for something to focus on that wasn’t the piercing eyes he’d been avoiding.

“Fuck… a psychiatrist… I’m… fuck I’m not crazy.”

“Hush, Will. You’re not my patient. I’m not here to judge you. I do wish to make sure you’re ok though. I assume what happened last night is not to your usual interests?”

“N-no… it’s not… Fuck I’m really sorry. I… I have an empathy disorder. It’s my job to… get into… uh… the heads of killers and help stop them. Sometimes I get… stuck…”

“And this is what happened last night?” Hannibal asked, his hand now resting on Will’s arm again, giving a soft squeeze. Will just gave a slight nod, shame heating his cheeks. “Is there anything you’d like me to do to help you feel better about the situation?”

“Why aren’t you running for the hills? Why are you so damn calm about this?” Will said suddenly, jaw clenching intermittently after as he fought back his frustration. At Hannibal. At the killer for being how he was.

Mostly at himself for the niggling voice at the back of his mind reminding him he was just as fucked up as the monsters he hunted and that he’d not be able to avoid it forever.

“Luckily for you it takes a lot for me to ‘run for the hills’ as you put it. Would you like me to make you breakfast? I’m told I’m a rather excellent cook.” Hannibal said, and Will couldn’t take it anymore. Hannibal was too soft, being too kind after what Will had clearly done to him. He took a last look at the broad, hairy chest littered with bites and cuts and bruises, and nearly threw himself out of bed. He needed to put some distance between them.

“You should just go. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I hope you don’t have to suffer me again.” Will told him. He was too eager to get away from the conflicting arousal and horror of his feelings around Hannibal to give much of a thought to the fact he was completely naked as he made his way to his bathroom.

He locked himself in, leaning back against the door, breathing heavily and burying his face in his hands. He forced himself to take a shower, during which he realised there was no telltale ache in his rear to indicate he’d bottomed. Which meant he’d either topped or there had been no penetration.

Will hoped it was the latter. If he’d fucked Hannibal in that state he was sure there’d be at least some damage, likely a lot.

After drying and pulling on a threadbare bathrobe, Will tentatively left the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw his house was now empty except for his dogs who crowded around him, begging for breakfast.

On his pillow was a business card, Hannibal’s. On the back was a small handwritten prompt to feel free to call him anytime if he needed to talk.

Will threw it on his bedside table and tried to forget it.

* * *

A week passed, Will had caught the ‘Baltimore Strangler’ as the media had dubbed the killer. A title that made Will cringe whenever he crossed it’s path.

He’d been called to Jack’s office and trudged his way toward it, hoping it wasn’t yet another case so soon. Sometimes it felt like half the population of Virginia and Maryland were serial killers they popped up so often, seemingly spurred into existence by the infrequent sounders of the Chesapeake ripper.

As Will stepped into Jack’s office he froze, his eyes falling on the familiar man opposite the head of the BAU. 

Dread seeped deep into his bones.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi long time no see I got stuck trying to write the 30 days of tropes fics in order, before i post any of them. and refusing to write anything else until this was done.
> 
> However for the one night stand trope i changed my mind of what i wanted to include for it, so this is the original one i wrote xD
> 
> [If you like it go give it a reblog on tumblr!](http://trashbambi.tumblr.com/post/180149924165)
> 
> Comments and kudos FUEL ME


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